


Talk to Me

by CastellanGarak



Series: The Way He Speaks [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastellanGarak/pseuds/CastellanGarak
Summary: prompt: webcam sex, dirty talk





	Talk to Me

Dukat slinks into his quarters, on edge and near vibrating with tension. It had been an odd day. His second was behaving strangely, and it threw off the dynamic of the entire crew. Dukat would need to do something about it, but for now he just wants to unwind and take his mind off work for the rest of the evening. He can figure something out later.

Dukat takes off his armor and leaves it in a pile by the door, slipping his boots off and running a hand through his hair. He hooks a finger in the collar of his undershirt, pulling it away from his body, and then feels a shiver of cold, and decides to leave it on.

His eyes land on the bedside drawer, and he beelines towards it, opening it and rummaging around. He hisses, thinking he’s managed to lose it, and then his fingers close on the chain Garak had given him. He grins and takes it out, along with the activating device, and closes the drawer.

Dukat sits on the edge of the bed and puts it on, draping it loosely around his neck. The cold metal clasp catches slightly on a sore scale, and a bolt of heat goes straight to Dukat’s groin. He should maybe not use it again so soon after the first time, but he’d held off for as long as he could.

Dukat gets more fully on the bed, one hand going to the activating device, the other slipping into his pants. He clicks the device on, and then his padd dings with an incoming message. Dukat opens it. “Lock your door, idiot.”

Dukat raises his eyeridge, and replies, one handed. “Who is this?” His other hand strokes absently at his slit.

“By the Union, get your hand out your pants and lock the door, you hormone addled _hound_.”

“Garak? What the fuck? Are you watching me?”

There is no reply, and yet Dukat still feels somehow judged. It sends a bolt of arousal through him, and he groans, and slides a finger inside himself. His comm unit rings, and he reaches over and ends the call without looking.

“Idiot.” Garak’s voice fills the room.

Dukat’s eyes snap open. “Oh. Hello.”

Garak rolls his eyes. “You meant to reject the call, didn’t you, and then hit accept by mistake.”

“Yep.”

“Skrain. What if it had been someone else calling.”

“Then I guess they’d have seen me with my finger up my purse,” Dukat replies, the ‘duh’ in his tone obvious.  

Garak blinks at him. “And I see this troubles you the expected amount.”

“Garak. Why are you spying on me? _How_ are you spying on me? You were in here once, and didn’t touch a thing except me, and-” Dukat cuts off, looking down at the chain. “Oh.”

“Indeed,” Garak says.

“Oh,” Dukat says, again, an uncomfortable mixture of amused and disappointed. “I thought you were just being nice, giving me this. Didn’t realize you had an ulterior motive. Which was stupid of me, in retrospect.”

“Dukat,” Garak says, solemnly, “I will never, in my life, be nice to you, without ulterior motive.”

Dukat narrows his eyes at him, for a moment, giving him a long, searching look. And then he smiles. “I’ve heard worse wedding vows.”

Garak sighs. “For the last time, lock the door. Or do you _want_ to get walked in on during this?”

“If you think it would be the first time I’ve been walked in on-”

“Not while you’re wearing the Order’s equipment, I’m sure,” Garak interrupts swiftly.

“Fair.” Dukat goes to lock the door, and then clambers back onto the bed, leaning back and slipping his hand in his pants.

“Duka-”

“Garak, are you going to critique my every move? Nobody likes a backseat driver.”

“I was just going to say, if you wanted to wait-” Garak’s eyes flick to the side, doing quick calculations- “15 minutes, I could… join you.”

“On my… ship…” Dukat says hesitantly.

Garak’s eyes flick back to him, and then away, as he rolls them. “No, idiot.” He makes a vague gesture that it takes Dukat a moment to parse.

“Oh,” he says, a fourth time. “Yes. I can. Wait.” He clicks the device off, and tugs at the loosened chain impatiently. His padd dings and he thumbs the message open with his other hand.

“Get your thumb off the camera, idiot.” 

Dukat’s mouth quirks up, and he replies one handed. “Stop spying on me, and focus on what you need to get done before you can join me.”

Dukat rubs his thumb across the screen as he waits for a reply, and then puts it down when he realizes one isn’t coming. He putters about, sprucing up, now that he knows he has an audience. He takes his undershirt off, and his socks, and fixes his hair, and is getting out his scale buffing kit when the comm unit rings again.

“Yes?” he asks, picking out a brush.

“Stop primping, idiot. I’m ready.”

Dukat puts down the brush. “No harm in looking good for your…” Dukat bites his lip, trying to categorize their relationship.

Garak takes a bracing breath, and speaks. “If you finish that sentence, I will kill you for real.”

Dukat smirks. “Aww, afraid of labels, are we?”

Garak gives him a stony look, reaching for the end call button.

“No, wait!” Dukat says, panicked. “I’ll shut up!”

Garak grunts. “Doubt it.” He looks into Dukat’s eyes. “But I’ll stick around anyway.”

Dukat smiles at him, and then gestures languidly. “Get your kit off. You’re overdressed,” he says, with a flirty smirk.

Garak looks down at himself, hand clenching on his desk. His eyes flick back up to Dukat’s and he smiles thinly. “Perhaps later.”

“Alright,” Dukat says, suddenly reminded that Garak prefers to ease into things. He puts his buffing kit away and lounges on the bed, mindful of his audience. Dukat turns the collar back on, sighing as he slips his hand back into his pants.

“You’ve a very one track mind,” Garak drawls, amused.

“Great Guls, are you going to be like this the whole time!?” Dukat asks with despair, but feels a pleased flutter that he tries to hide. His eyes flick to Garak. Garak looks steadily back at him, and then raises an eyeridge, lips quirking.

Dukat’s butterflies intensify, and he drinks in the sight of Garak looking soft, edges momentarily smoothed. Dukat--

\--stares up at the ceiling, dizzy and dazed. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks at the comm unit. “Um.”

“Two minutes, don’t worry.”

“What?”

“You knocked yourself out, but it was only two minutes, and then you recovered. It’s fine.”

Dukat looks down at his hand, holding the activating device, takes in the loosened collar, and puts together that he turned it too intensely too fast, which is embarrassing, and then further realizes he made that mistake because Garak had made him _nervous_ , and that is just too much to bear. Dukat ends the comm call.

His padd beeps. Dukat opens the text message. “It’s fine.” Garak says. Dukat doesn’t answer. Another message soon arrives. “Skrain, it’s ok, I already knew you were an idiot.” An expectant pause, and then another message. “No pithy rejoinder? You _must_ be embarrassed.”

“Not embarrassed,” he finally replies.

“Dukat, I can see you moping.”

“Not moping.”

“Mercies. Are we really doing this?”

“Fuck off.”

“Awww, someone’s cranky.”

“Quit treating me like a child.”

“Then quit acting like one.”

“Fuck off,” Dukat says again, and puts the collar and activating device into the drawer, which he then closes. “Observe that.”

“Mature,” Garak says.

Dukat turns off his padd, and lets out a shaky breath.

\----

The next day Dukat wakes up late, not feeling well rested. He makes himself a mug of red leaf tea, and checks his comm unit. There’s a missed call from Garak, and he left a video message. Dukat opens it curiously, and it’s just Garak rolling his eyes, then hanging up. A wheezing laugh is startled out of Dukat, that warm feeling fluttering about his chest again. He plays the message again, then realizes what he’s doing and yelps, shutting the unit off, heart pounding.

He turns on his padd and answers some work texts from his crew, emptying his inbox and both hoping and dreading there will be something from Garak. There isn’t. Dukat taps his finger idly on the screen, and then composes a message. “Try again tonight?”

He hits send, then puts the padd down and goes to take a shower. When he gets back, there is a reply from Garak. “Oh, done avoiding me?”

“Don’t make this a thing,” Dukat pleads.

“You’re the one who made it a thing, but alright. Tonight, then.”

Dukat grins.

\----

Dukat is buffing his scales when the comm unit rings. “Hello,” he says, putting the brush away.

“Primping again,” Garak says teasingly, a small grin at the corner of his mouth.

“Mmmm. Overdressed again,” Dukat rejoins.

Garak’s eyes flick away, and then back. “Gonna get out the collar, or go without, this time?”

Dukat hesitates, and then reaches for the drawer. “I’ll wear it. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m sure,” Garak says, leaning back in his chair and pressing his thumb to the seam of his desk.

Dukat watches the motion of his finger, then slips the collar around his neck and presses the activation button. The collar tightens, Dukat’s breath hitches, and he spreads himself out across the bed. He runs his hand down his bare chest, over his abdomen, and reaches the cloth of his pants, then slips his hand inside.

Garak makes a soft noise and Dukat looks over, expecting more teasing, but Garak simply stares, scales darkening. “Take them off,” Garak says, voice hoarse.

Dukat gasps. He’s never felt this wanted before, not by Garak. He starts to evert, groaning. Hurriedly, he strips his pants off, and his hand goes back to his groin, prUt already peeking out between the lips of his purse, wet and aching. “Garak,” he gasps out, dipping his fingers into his moist passage. “Undress, too, I want to see you.”

Garak shifts, ducking his eyes away. “I’d rather not.”

“Wh...why not? It’s not like I haven't seen you naked, before.”

“ _I’d rather not_ ,” Garak growls, “It doesn’t matter why.”

Dukat raises his eyeridges in surprise. “Okay, fine. Are you at least gonna get your cock out?”

“Once I’ve everted,” Garak says.

“Mmm,” Dukat says, coaxing his cock out with patient fingers, pretending they’re Garak’s. “I wish you were here,” he says, voice soft.

“I don’t,” Garak says, rolling his eyes.

Dukat chuckles. “You really know how to sweet talk a guy.”

Garak huffs. “We’re already fucking, why would I need to sweet talk you?”

Dukat shrugs, and wraps his hand around his cock. “You’re awfully grumpy tonight.”

“I’m just--” Garak says quickly, then cuts himself off. “I’m not having the best of days.”

“Oh,” Dukat says. “I’m sorry to hear it. Anything I can do to cheer you up?” Garak hesitates, seeming to war with himself. Dukat raises an eyeridge expectantly. “Well?”

“No. Except what you’re already doing. Give me a show, idiot.”

Dukat smiles, warmed. “Alright, I will.” He takes his hand off his cock and hitches his leg up to give Garak a better view, before sliding his fingers back into himself. It feels good, but it’s not enough. “Garak.”

“Yes?”

“I need--” He curls his fingers, breath hitching. “More. Let me see you, _please_.”

Garak sighs, rolls his eyes. “If it makes you shut up about it, then fine.” He undoes the clasps on his shirt, shrugs it off, then gets his pants open. He’s already started to evert a little, and he cups his genital slit, strokes himself gently, then looks back up at Dukat.

“Mmm,” Dukat says, drinking in the sight of him.

Garak makes a displeased noise.

“What?”

“Nothing. Turn up the device.”

Dukat does, and groans low in his chest. He speeds up the motion of his hand, properly turned on now. It’s slick, noisy, and arousing, Garak’s breath hitches, as he everts further, prUt blooming slowly. Reaching full mast, stale station air kissing his cock's base. He wraps his hand firmly around himself, strokes in long, slow pulls.

Dukat watches him, clicks the device up another notch.

“Careful, idiot. Not so fast, or you’ll pass out again.”

Dukat laughs breathlessly. “I don’t care. I need it.”

“Fine, whatever. Just don’t disappear again, if you make a fool of yourself.”

“Won’t.” Dukat licks his lips, and Garak’s eyes flick down to track the movement. Dukat’s lips tick up in a smile. “Wanna kiss me?”

“As if.”

“Tell me. Tell me you want your mouth on me. _I_ do. I want you to eat me out, I want you to _taste_ me.”

Garak strokes himself faster. “Yes,” he finally admits. “Yes, I want it.”

“Would you do it now, if you could?”

“Yes,” Garak says again, voice deepening. “I’d climb into bed with you, and pin your hips down, because I know you’d squirm, and I’d grab your wrist, get your fingers out of there to make room for my tongue, I’d--”

His next words are drowned out as Dukat comes with a cry.

“Oh,” Garak says, with surprise. “That was fast.”

“Shut up,” Dukat says, panting raggedly. He turns off the device, takes the collar off, tries to catch his breath. Then he looks back up at Garak. “Come for me, I want to see you.”

“Yes, alright.” Garak says exasperatedly. He resumes stroking himself, but soon has to stop. “Dukat.”

“What?”

“Don’t just _watch_ , it’s weird.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“I don’t know, talk to me. Tell me what you’d do, if you were here.”

“Hmm,” Dukat says, leaning back, propping himself up on his elbow. “I’ve just come, I’m probably not ready for another round, just yet. But I think I’d let you fuck me, anyway. It’d be oversensitive, a bit painful, but so intense it’s almost pleasurable. And it’d be so good, for you. I'd be all shivery and clenching, inside.”

“Yes,” Garak gasps out.

“You’d fuck into me, slow, but hard, and I’d make pained noises, fucked out little noises, with each thrust; but you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like hearing me.”

“Yes, I’d like that, I--” Garak cuts off with a groan, coming into his hand. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says, breathing heavily. “Chaos, that was good.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Dukat says, laughing.

“Oh, shut up, don’t act so smug.”

“Mmhmm,” Dukat says smiling at him.

Garak smiles back, for a moment, and then makes a disgusted face, looks down at his hand. “I’m going to shower,” he says. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“Mmmhmm,” Dukat says, again, and lets him go. “Bye, Garak.”

“Bye.” He cuts the call. Dukat looks at the ‘transmission ended’ screen, for a moment, then looks down at the inert collar. He smiles, and brings it to his lips, kisses it gently.

Dukat’s padd chimes. He opens the text. “Don’t be gross,” Garak says.

“Stop watching me. Go shower.”

“I will, if you stop being gross.”

"No. Go shower."

Garak sighs, but does.


End file.
